Hasta la Veela
by Learninghowtofly
Summary: A Veela Draco, then add the fact that his mate is really good at running and really pissed that she is a veela's mate and the fact that Draco hates bowing to anyone. But before we're done, don't forget the exchange students from Spain randomly thrown in.
1. Chapter 1

Hello

fyi the main characters are in seventh year

after the war

and as you may notice some characters that are supposed to be dead, aren't

horrible i know.

anyway, read on...

* * *

"She is in this castle. I'm sure of it." Draco Malfoy hissed through his teeth, knuckles whitening as they gripped the arms of his chair.

Lucius Malfoy held his hand down firmly on his son's shoulder. Not that this action would have any effect if Draco lost control and bolted but perhaps his hand would help serve as a reminder to stay seated.

Dumbledore sighed, never in all his years at Hogwarts any event such as the like of this happened. Sure he'd heard about it in olden stories and certain classified rumors from Beauxbatons but never had he experienced it first hand. He would have to make a trip to the forbidden section of the library, sooner rather than later. He was getting too old for this job. He shouldn't have to put up with stuff like this. Still, former death-eater or not, Lucius was a main contributor to the schools funds and Dumbledore couldn't afford to lose him.

"Have no worries, Mr. Malfoy. My staff and I will do our best to facilitate your sons condition in any possible way. I assure you that we are delighted to have a veela attending-

He was cut off by a piercing scream.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

Draco's eyes flashed silver, and he managed to contain himself long enough to mutter, "That's her," before he dashed out of the room.

_About a half an hour earlier…_

"BRRRIIIIIINGG!"

The girl knew that there was something wrong before she even sat up in her bed, one freezing cold morning in April. She lay still as she could, eyes to the bottom of the bunk on top of her. Her comforter, decorated with golden snitches and looked a lot James Potter's would have, was pulled up to her chin so there was no way she could tell for sure without moving her body and being exposed to the frigid air. But somehow she knew that something wasn't quite right. Eventually after what felt like hours, her bunkmate, who had been woken up by the same strange wizardly adaption of a muggle alarm clock, poked her head down to say good morning. Unfortunately, as the girl's friend laid eyes on her, the friend gasped and fell off her bed.

"Myra what the hell happened to you? Ow…"

Myra (pronounced M-ee-rah) sighed. There was only one explanation for her friend's odd reaction. She had been pranked. The next part of the process was simple, she needed to track down the perpetrator and extract their revenge. That will be fun.

"Calm down, Mione, I'm pretty sure it's just a prank, probably a first year, and you know pranksters, they don't last long after I'm done with them." She smiled, but it wasn't a kind smile. "Especially with the Quidditch game today, anyone who interferes with me will suffer, dearly." She added to herself. She was a beater, and damn good at it too. Once, she had a target, they were a goner. Even if they were in the stands.

However, instead of looking reassured like Myra hoped she would, Hermione went paler.

"Myra, you should really look in the mirror, and I mean it, really."

"That bad, huh? I suppose I should then." Myra dragged herself out of bed and winced as she her bare feet touched the cold stone floor, purposefully ignoring Hermione when she muttered, "if that's a prank, I wouldn't mind getting my hands on the prankster so he could pull it on **me**."

Standing up, she felt even weirder than ever. Dreading what she would see, she didn't look down as she walked to the mirror.

And then she froze in shock.

The image that stared back at her was gruesome.

It had perfect hair, perfect eyes, a perfect nose, a perfect mouth, a perfect chin, and everything below that looked like it was plastic, it was so Barbie like. She had lost a couple inches of height too.

But all this was small pebbles compared to the last most horrible, devastating fact.

All her muscles were gone. All her hard-earned Quidditch muscles, that she had put so much blood and sweat into getting so she would be one of the few females who made the Gryffindor Quidditch team, were gone.

Slowly, glaring at her reflection, she used a tone that could freeze flaming balls of gas (i.e. the sun?), "the bastard who did this is going to pay so much they'll wish they'd never been born."

"Don't worry, we know all the spell used to fix any type of prank that could ever be pulled. You'll be back to normal in no time," soothed Hermione, recognizing the signs that warned when Myra was about to explode.

_20 minutes later…_

Myra's patience had come to an end. Every spell she knew and still… This?

Hermione was worried, something should have worked by now. Her gaze alighted upon her open DADA textbook and her eyes widened. No, it couldn't be. Surely it was impossible.

"Myra," Hermione spoke slowly, talking as if to a child, "remember what we were learning about in DADA today? About the rare male veelas and their mates? I think you might be a veela's mate."

Myra started shaking, "does that mean I'm staying like this? It's permanent?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!"

And all hell broke loose.

_Present time._

The door of the Gryffindor girls dormitories blew open and the blond froze, seeing only the beautiful creature in front of him. The only thing in world that mattered. The word "mine" escaped his lips as he began to make his way over towards his love.

Myra lock eyes with the boy in the doorway. It was, with no doubt, Draco Malfoy. A much hotter and sexier Draco Malfoy, but most certainly Draco Malfoy. What didn't help was that all her hormones were battling with her common sense to jump him right here and now. Her common sense won. It usually did.

Luckily, she was good at thinking on her feet.

"Hermione, NOW!" she shouted at her friend.

Hermione instinctively understanding her friend need and sent a bat boogey hex at Draco.

It merely stunned him, but it was sufficient enough to provide a distraction long enough for Myra to take off.

And as she ran down the stairs, through the broken painting and past perplexed Spanish exchange students being given a tour by McGonagall all the while with a blond Slytherin in hot pursuit, she realized that whatever screwed up genetics had created a male veela and his mate had forgotten to take away the muscle in her legs. Thank you all those painful years of cross country running in elementary school.

And as they say, "hasta la veela!"

* * *

disclaimer; if you think you can sue me for it, then I probably don't own it dumb ass.

read and review because I love you


	2. Chapter 2

Myra sat on the edge of the edge of the astronomy tower, trying to catch her breath, as she faced her pursuer who was, currently, attempting to do the same.

She was, Myra reflected, in every aspect of the word, cornered. However she still did have one trick up her sleeve that would definitely work.

That is, assuming he was a veela and she was his mate. But Hermione's hunches were hardly ever wrong. However, if it wasn't the case here, and in fact, he was actually trying to kill her (which is the only other reason in the world that could have motivated Malfoy to chase her for so long without forfeiting) then it was probably a good thing she was fingering her wand inside her cloak and mentally preparing herself to _accio_ the broomstick the Gryffindor Quidditch Team had hidden under the balcony rail (normally, for that quick escape route should any prefects or professors discover them during an afterhours snogging session which, you must admit, is quite a common occurrence. Unfortunately, and despite many popular rumours, the ones in authority aren't _that_ thick = the monopoly/cards game excuse only works for so many times).

Myra looked hard in the blond's beautiful (veela, she reminded herself, veela) gray eyes and in one single fluid movement stood up on the tower balcony rail. She still had perfect balance, she noted. Well, it was nice to know that this whole veela thing hadn't turned her into a complete klutz as well as a weakling. She turned her attention back to Malfoy who, while she was momentarily distracted, ventured a couple steps closer. "Don't take another step or I'll jump," she spoke sharply in what she hoped was a convincing tone.

He froze. Unsure, his eyes darted nervously from her, to the railing, and to what lay beyond it.

Myra sighed, if it had been anyone else but her, she would have found the whole situation ridiculously funny. Draco Malfoy worrying about somebody other than himself? Oh please, give her a break. As if. There is the fact that he didn't have a choice, she pondered. And he was, most admiringly and uncharacteristically, obeying her command. She considered putting her wand away, but then decided against it. Instead, she pulled it and cast _petrificus totalus _on Malfoy and went screaming for her life all the way to the headmaster's office.

This whole thing was much too freaky for her to handle.

Nevertheless, the Spanish exchange students were largely amused as they watched the very same girl that they had previously seen, come yelling bloody murder as she ran in the opposite direction from before. Now this was definitely going in the letters back home.

McGonagall, who had been hopeless attempting to interest the, now distracted, students with a sixteenth century tapestry, was less amused.

* * *

_(A/N: and because he really deserves it, considering what he has to put up with)__** Draco's POV **__(A/N: whenever I write the first three letters of his name, I'm always tempted to finish it with an 'ula'. P.s. elipses usually mean that Draco is switching back and forth between veela mode and normal mode.)_

It was infuriating that he, self-proclaimed highest bidder when self-preservation was on the market, was bowing down to the whims of a bird. How could he have lowered his guard enough for the girl to immobilize him? Not that he still would have been capable of sending spells towards her but at the least, he could have dodged it. And what was even more disgusting was the seventeenth century poetry that his mouth threatened to serenade her with whenever his teeth lost grip on his tongue…

…because she was completely deserving of every word of it…

…ugh, no she wasn't! Sure she was cute…

…no scratch that, gorgeous…

…and he would have definitely tapped that if the situation had been different…

… although, he actually wouldn't have expressed it like that because that was completely demeaning to his goddess and…

…who the hell really cares! He can express himself however he wants! And after 'tapping' her, he would have left her because…

…no he wouldn't leave her, he would dedicate the rest of his life to serving the beauty's every wish and command…

…are you kidding? He would have totally played her and left her because that's what Draco Malfoy does…

…not do and would never do because without her his life would have no meaning…

…and most definitely because she was Gryffindor and he was Slytherin which made them…

…like two star crossed lovers from opposing houses. Oh, how romantic could it get? It's like a fairytale…

"SHUT UP!"

Draco suddenly became aware of a few things. One, wow, that tower sure had a loud echo although merlin only knows what the sound could have bounced off since he was technically outside and that meant there was no ceiling above him. Two, he could speak which meant he could move his mouth which meant the spell was wearing off. Three, he needed to go find the spell's caster so he could go sort this all out…

…but really just so you can see her again…

…shut up.

* * *

_And now switching back to Myra's pov._

"Sir! Can you explain why I was just accosted by Malfoy and…" she paused, noticing Malfoy Sr., "Oh. Why is Lord Malfoy here?"

The Headmaster just sat there uselessly with his eyes doing that weird twinkly thing, while Malfoy Sr. appeared to be studying her. "The Gryffindor part is regrettable, but at least my fool of a son was intelligent enough to pick a pureblood." Malfoy Sr. muttered, narrowing his eyes at Myra.

She decided to try again, turning to Dumbledore to appeal, "Sir, I'm afraid I don't quite understand…"

Malfoy Sr. interrupted her, "You, girl, have been bestowed upon the honor being my veela son's mate which you can appreciate later. Now I must contact your parents to organise arrangements concerning the bonding ceremonies which must be conducted before my son's eighteenth birthday or he will experience a most untimely death. Now, would you prefer to be married after graduation or…"

"No."

"_Before_ graduation?"

"I refuse the whole thing. There is no way on Earth that I am getting tied down before I am even eighteen."

"Now, I'm afraid that I do not understand. There are countless other girls who would have given anything to be in your place…"

"It's too bad that I'm not one of them."

"…My son will die unless this ceremony is performed…"

"Lord Malfoy, there is a good third of this school that would pay me to see your son dead, my house will make me a hero, and to be completely honest with you, there is nothing in this world that could persuade me to be a good little pureblood housewife let alone marry your son."

Malfoy Sr. was apparently struck speechless for several moments and it was during this period of time that Dumbledore spoke up. "Miss Winsdale, I'm aware that must seem sudden to you, but perhaps if you gave it a bit of time and thought, you may even find that are quite a few positive aspects to falling in love with young Mr. Malfoy."

"With all due respect sir, I've managed to avoid any romance whatsoever for the last past seven years. I'm sure that one more won't hurt." And with that she prepared to saunter back out the door, with the matter not really concluded, and invest in some heavy protection charms that worked against veelas but she was stopped at a halt midway when the door burst open (for the second time that day, really! If this keeps up, we're going to need new doors) by a very dishevelled, panting, Draco Malfoy.

"Ah I have finally found you, my dear maiden. I must confess that I am most completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with you." And then he straightened slightly and gave sheepish grin that was so un-Malfoy-like that Myra nearly tripped over her own feet. "Sadly, I must also confess the sin of not knowing your name and now must beg of you the knowledge needed to correct this grave misdeed of mine."

Finally aware that she was staring, Myra turned to the Headmaster and Malfoy Sr. only to realize that they were staring as well. "And up until now, you have yet to consider the possibility of a love potion?"

It was Malfoy Sr. who responded, "Well, yes, that is, up until now."

* * *

The visiting students from Spain were touring the grounds now, and were, quite frankly, extremely bored.

Seriously, though, how long could this woman go on and on about the history of one bloody castle. Yes, they were aware that many interesting things had happened at Hogwarts and that perhaps they would like to know about them at a later date but as of now they were still worn out from their portkey trip to Scotland and really just want to get settled down in their rooms. Much to their relief, as well as their surprise, a loud echo that completely summarized their feelings, came out of nowhere.

"SHUT UP."

By the time, the transfigurations teacher recovered, she had lost her train of thought and instead of continuing, chose to put off the rest of her speech for tomorrow.

Then again, thought the Spanish students, maybe they could understand her affection for this castle after all.


End file.
